You Can't Take My Fangs From Me
by wolffan200
Summary: A crossover fic that puts a season four recently chipped, but still evil, Spike into the Firefly verse. I was told there aren't enough of these Spike/Firefly crossovers so thought I'd give it a go.
1. Chapter 1

Spike was humming to himself as he walked back to his crypt, a bag full of blood and smokes cradled under one arm. He kept a wary eye on his surroundings as he approached, his senses on edge for any sign of the Commando wankers he'd run into the last time he'd done his shopping. Thanks to them he'd had to run back to Scoobie Central looking for help…_again_. He ceased humming in favour of a growl at the memory.

It wasn't bloody right! No Big Bad should have to crawl to his mortal enemy with his tail between his legs, looking for shelter from a bunch of human boyscouts and their toys. Spike was a survivor however, so as much as turning to the Slayer and her pals pissed him off, he really hadn't seen any other choice unless he wanted to dust—which he didn't, at least not anymore. Not when he could hurt demons. At least he wasn't completely fangless. 'Course that didn't make his situation of being harmless to humans sting any less.

Scowling now, he increased his pace and was almost at his crypt when a noise caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks and listened intently, his free hand forming a fist at his side and his muscles tensing. Demon or Commando? Fight…or flight? A clang of metal followed by a female grunt reached his ears and Spike visibly relaxed, rolling his eyes and exhaling loudly.

"Bloody Slayer's at it again," he muttered.

He was about to continue on his way when curiosity got the better of him. He couldn't help but wonder what she might be up against. Chances were it was some sort of big, ugly demon, and in that case, chances were equally good that Spike could do her job for her—which would piss her off no end. Spike grinned evilly and changed course, heading for the noise of the Slayer's fight.

He dropped his bag onto a nearby monument and watched as the lithe, little, blonde girl cart-wheeled into sight, two cloaked figures following; one with a sword in hand, the other wielding a large staff. The Slayer's weapon of choice was an axe, and as she straightened to face off with them again, she twirled it expertly at her side.

_Show-off_, Spike thought, with a snort.

The figure with the sword rushed forward to attack and Spike was disappointed. There was no chance the Slayer was going to lose this fight. He could tell at a glance that she far outmatched her opponent in skill, speed, and form. He was proven right when she batted away her foe's attack with little effort and followed up with a kick that hit its mark dead on, her foot connecting solidly with the cloaked figure's head and sending him whirling sideways where he barely remained on its feet.

"You're going to have to do way better than that, buddy. Come on, give me some sort of a work out," the Slayer quipped, circling around to face the dazed figure again.

She still hadn't noticed Spike behind her and he narrowed his eyes as he glared at her back.

_Cocky bitch. I should do something about that. Can't make this too easy for her now, can I? Girl wants a work out after all._

Spike leaned back against the monument and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, settling into a relaxed pose before revealing his presence.

"What's the matter, Slayer? The boy toy not giving you enough action?" he drawled.

The sound of his voice startled her and she turned her head in his direction. Surprise was quickly replaced by annoyance once she spotted him and she narrowed her eyes.

"Great," she said, "just what I needed to top my night off."

Spike tilted his head at her with a smirk, his gaze flicking over her shoulder when he noticed the cloaked swordsman raise his weapon. She turned quickly, following Spike's line of sight, barely managing to bring her axe up in time to block the metal blade before it could slice into her shoulder. She suffered a punch to the face for her momentary distraction that sent her reeling back a few steps before she recovered enough to swing her axe and maintain some distance between her and the swordsman.

"Didn't your Watcher teach you to keep your eye on the enemy? Don't think Rupes would be too pleased by your lack of focus", Spike called out, grinning.

"Could you not talk?" the Slayer snapped, blocking another thrust of the sword and scowling.

"Just tryin' to give you some advice, luv," Spike answered.

"_No_, advice would be helping. _You_ are distracting. Don't you have better things to do than annoy me? Like lurking, you seem to be good at that. Go lurk somewhere—somewhere that's not here."

The Slayer parried two more blows and struck out with the axe again, slicing her enemy's thigh and, causing him to wail in pain before he snarled and swung at her again. Spike scoffed and turned his head. It was then he remembered the second figure with the staff. Apparently the Slayer had forgotten him as well, focused as she was on the fight at hand.

Spike watched as the hooded figure stood back, its staff tracing circles in the air while it observed the fight. A faint blue glow began to radiate from the end of the staff. The sound of the axe and sword clashing together faded into background noise as Spike focused on the strange glowing light that seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. A dark blur in front of him brought Spike's attention back to the fight as the swordsman was sent sprawling to the ground. The Slayer marched after her opponent purposefully, axe raised to strike. Behind her, Spike saw the blue tipped staff levelled towards her, the bright light swelling to an intense glow and realised the Slayer was about to get hit by a truckload of magic if she didn't move.

"Slayer!" he shouted, moving towards her.

"Huh?" she asked, turning around to see what he meant.

Spike's body slammed into hers from behind, knocking them both to the ground, just in time to avoid the explosion of magic that flew over their heads with a loud crack.

"Oof!"

"Argh!"

Spike grabbed his head and swore as electric fire ran through his brain. His optic nerves stung and it felt like someone just whacked him over the noggin with a sledgehammer. The Slayer wriggled out from under him and leapt to her feet, facing the magic wielder with determination. Spike groaned and rose to his feet slowly, wincing and clutching his head with one hand.

_What the bloody hell did I go and do that for?_

Spike blinked, glancing up to see the Slayer charge at the figure with the staff, and noticed the blue glow beginning to increase again. Obviously whatever spell the thing was using to attack with was quick to recharge once it had been cast. It was impossible to tell who would be faster, the Slayer and her axe or the figure and its staff as the distance between the two shrank, but just as she was swinging her weapon and the blue glow crackled at the height of its energy, the Slayer was thrown sideways, this time by the swordsman. The pair fell to the ground as the magic blast shot forth from the staff, missing their target and continuing onwards—straight towards Spike. The vamp's eyes widened.

"Oh bollocks," he muttered, as the bright light engulfed him.

Spike grunted as he was hit with a solid mass of energy, the pressure of it forcing him to his knees, and he squeezed his eyes shut to protect them from the blue glare. The ground fell away from underneath him. Everything seemed to whoosh around him and Spike had an odd sensation of hurtling forward at a ridiculous speed before careening to a halt that made his insides jerk. The space around him shifted and spun and Spike groaned again, feeling just about ready to hurl when everything suddenly slowed and eventually stopped. Pausing for a moment to make sure the wild ride really was over, Spike sucked in a deep breath. Not that he needed it, but it was calming, and he was a fan of anything calm right now. Reminding himself that he wasn't dust, so whatever the magic had done he was still as unalive as ever, Spike slowly opened his eyes.

He was in what appeared to be a storage room of some sort. Boxes and crates were stacked around him in a small, dark, and cramped space. Looking around, seeing nothing but boxes, Spike warily rose to his feet. He stumbled a bit as the sensations from the spell wore off and clutched at a stack of crates until he regained his balance. Wiping one hand over his face and rubbing his eyes to clear them of the small black spots flashing across his retinas, no doubt from the intense light earlier, Spike shook his head and took some more unnecessary deep, calming breaths.

_Right. Transportation spell. Nothing lethal, just not a ride you wanna take if you've eaten beforehand. Lucky for me I didn't._

Spike took another look around him and weaved through the crates and boxes looking for a way out. He stopped when he reached what appeared to be the door, or rather gateway, out. He was in a storeroom all right, but he also happened to be in a cage in the storeroom where the valuable goods must be kept. The gate was padlocked from the outside, and with a shiny new padlock by the looks of it. Spike sighed.

_Bollocks. Just my bloody luck._

Spike kicked at the gate and as expected, nothing happened. All that had got him was a quick shudder and a noisy rattle while the lock remained firmly in place. Glancing behind him at the rows upon rows of boxes, Spike cocked his head.

_Wonder exactly what valuables they'd wanna keep locked up in here anyway?_

Deciding he obviously had some time to kill before someone found him and there was a possibility he'd find something that could help him break out of his current prison cell, Spike pointed a finger at the crates waving it from side to side as his eyes roved over them.

"Eenie, meenie, miney, mo," he said, pausing with his finger pointed at a lumpy grey crate to his right.

He walked over and stared down at the odd looking box. Gripping the sides of the lid with both hands, he tugged. The box groaned and the lid shifted upwards a fraction. Spike pulled on it again, harder this time, and with a loud creak, the top snapped off in his hands. Tossing it onto the floor, Spike glanced down at the crate's contents. Silver, rectangular packets looked up at him. Spike frowned and picked up one of the heavy packets. Turning it over in his hands he gave it a small squeeze and felt it give under the pressure.

"Huh."

Tearing open the top of the packet, Spike quirked an eyebrow at the rectangular lump of orange-ish gunk inside. Cautiously, he sniffed at it. Smelled sort of like food, but not any kind Spike recognised. Not bad. Not exactly good either. Breaking off a tiny clump of the stuff, Spike tasted it. Yup. Food. Bland, texture-less food or food supplement was more like it. Spike tossed the packet back into the box and moved to a different stack. Picking a wooden crate this time, Spike opened it and stared down at what he instantly recognised as medical supplies.

_Medical supplies and food. Stacked in a cargo hold. In a cage in a cargo hold. Hmm._

Spike moved on to another box. This time, he chose a long, silver, rectangular shaped one. It was harder to open than the other two, but nothing a little vampire force couldn't handle. Lifting off the lid and propping it against a wall, Spike looked inside. He did a double-take when he saw what the contents were. Weapons. More precisely, guns. Lots and lots of guns. Big ones, small ones, long ones, short ones, simple revolvers, and massive futuristic looking space blasters. His hand hovered over the weapons before Spike picked up one of the fancy, space age looking pieces. It was like nothing he'd seen before, even when he'd been shut up in the Initiative. They'd been proud of their little arsenal of fancy weapons, but Spike just bet they'd piss their pants if they saw what he had a hold of right now. Slowly, Spike's head swivelled to the locked gate then back to the gun.

"Huh."

"We didn't come here looking for no trouble, fellas. I got business with your boss, so if one of you gentlemen wouldn't mind fetchin' him out here, maybe we can put these away and have ourselves a civilized chat," Mal said, gesturing at his gun as he spoke and giving the three henchmen in front of him a friendly smile.

Next to him Zoe had her own weapon trained on the man opposite her, while Jayne aimed his shotgun at the third man, waiting for an opportunity to shoot. It was a typical reception for them when dealing with Cross. The guy arranged a job then almost had their heads blown off because he hadn't told his men to expect visitors. The men exchanged quick glances with each other and the one in the middle jerked his head to the guy on the left. With an answering nod, the guy backed up and disappeared into the open doorway behind him.

"What'd you say your business here was again?" the guy in the middle asked, keeping his weapon aimed at Mal's chest.

"Didn't," Mal answered, steadily, "and that's 'tween us and Cross. If he didn't see fit to mention it, I'm not gonna be the one to tell you his dealin's."

The man narrowed his eyes and increased pressure on his gun's trigger.

"Are we gonna have to go through this routine every time we do a job for this guy?" Jayne asked.

Mal knew the longer the stand-off lasted the antsier Jayne was gonna get. He was more of a shoot first kind of guy and it wouldn't take long for him to get trigger happy.

"No worries," Mal answered. "Cross knows we deliver. He'll be here in just a minute." He threw the men another confident smile, but never loosened the grip on his gun.

Just as Mal was beginning to wonder what Cross was up to, the man himself appeared in the open doorway. He stepped out and placed a reassuring hand on the man in the middle's shoulder, making him lower his gun.

"That's okay Leo, I've been expecting Mal and his mates here. Let 'em through, fellas."

Cross waved a hand in the air and the men lowered their weapons, relaxing and moving to the side, leaving the way clear for Mal and his crew. Cross grinned at Mal and gestured for them to follow him inside. Mal, Zoe, and Jayne put their weapons away and followed Cross, ducking their heads as they entered his hideout.

Cross was a relatively small time crook, but he pretty much ran things in the smuggling world on Three Hills and he had a reputation for pulling successful jobs, which was something the Serenity crew were in need of lately. Cross was short, skinny and the last guy you'd expect to have built a name for himself as a criminal, small time though he may be. He moved into the centre of the large room, more of his men surrounding them, and turned to face his guests.

"G'day, mates. So, I trust you're here to make a delivery? Haven't let me down now have ya?" Cross asked, in his strong Aussie accent, giving them a conspiratorial wink.

Mal wasn't fooled by the friendly display. Cross didn't get where he was by being friendly. He may put on quite the performance of trust, but he also had a large group of armed men on hand in case things didn't go according to plan. Cross didn't like to be disappointed.

"We got it," Mal answered, nodding. "I trust you have our payment?"

"Mal, Mal, Mal. Course I have your money. I'm shocked you even need to ask. You know the drill, you show me the goods, I make sure it's all dinky-di, then I hand over the moolah."

Mal turned to Jayne and nodded. Jayne glanced from Mal to Cross then slipped the rucksack on his shoulder to the ground, opened it, rummaged about inside for a minute and eventually pulled out a medium sized bundle wrapped in cloth. Rising to his feet, Jayne tossed the bundle to Cross who unwrapped it and grinned. Cross held up the rare engine part, examining it from various angles.

"You have the rest?" he asked with a sideways glance at Mal.

"Ready and waitin' with the rest of the crew. Soon as you pay us, your men can come get what's yours and we'll be on our merry way."

"Bonzer," Cross said, satisfied. He tossed the part to one of his men. "Patch, drop that in the storeroom. Ty, the bag."

Patch caught the part and headed to a room at the back while a second man picked up a small bag and handed it to Cross. Cross shook the bag and it rattled. He grinned and tossed it to Mal.

"There ya go ya bastard, feel free to count it. It's all there."

Mal caught the bag and weighed it in his hand. He nodded at Cross.

"That's okay. I trust your word. You ain't done me no wrong in the past."

"We're all just battlers beyond the Black Stump. I'll be sure an' call you again for work next time you're in these parts."

The two men shared a look of understanding and Mal turned to his crew, ready to escort Cross' men back to the ship so they could be on their way when a loud blast caught their attention. Splintered wood flew across the room and everyone gaped at the door to the storeroom which has just been blown to bits. Patch was on his ass a few feet away looking dazed, the part still in his hand as he stared at the open storeroom. A shadowy figure emerged from the dust, holding a large gun held at waist level. Mal and the others blinked.

The dust cleared and they took in the man in the doorway, dressed in all black with hair that looked almost white slicked back on his head. The stranger's eyes swept around the room, taking in the startled expressions on his audience's faces and quirked an eyebrow.

"Well," he drawled, "this is—different. So which one of you blokes can tell me where I am?"

There was silence for a long minute. Cross was the first to respond.

"Strewth! Someone mind explainin' to me how this Pommy bastard ended up in my storeroom with one of my weapons?"

None of his men could reply. Their heads swivelled from Cross back to the odd looking stranger.

"An Aussie huh? So I ended up down under then? Right. Figures I'd end up somewhere sunny."

The stranger shook his head and scoffed loudly. Mal, Zoe and Jayne looked on, too surprised to speak until Cross turned to them.

"Is this your doin'? He one of yours?"

"No!" Mal exclaimed, shocked and a little worried that Cross was going to turn on them. "I never saw him before in my life. He busted out of _your_ storeroom!" Mal argued, pointing.

"Look, gents, I don't know what exactly you've been up to here—" the stranger began, drawing all attention back to him. Cross' men raised their weapons and quickly trained them on him. "But," the man hurried to continue, "it's really none of my business, so if one of you could point me towards Sunnydale that'd be great."

Cross glared at the intruder, hands on his hips, and a lethal look in his eyes. Mal glanced from him to the armed stranger and back rapidly. Zoe leaned in to him cautiously.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" she mumbled.

"Permission granted," Mal answered out of the corner of his mouth.

"I think it's time we left, don't you? Before heads start gettin' blown off?"

"I think you're right," Mal agreed. "Well, gentlemen," he said a bit louder, rubbing his hands together. "I can see you've got your hands full here, so we'll just be makin' ourselves scarce. Some of you boys wanna come collect these goods?" he asked, jerking a thumb behind him as he and his crew began backing towards the door.

"No one goes anywhere 'til I get some answers," Cross snapped, and two of his men blocked the exit.

Reluctantly, Mal and the others stepped back into the room. Cross turned to his unexpected guest and stared pointedly at the weapon in his hands. The stranger glanced down at the gun then back up as Cross' men cocked their weapons.

"Oh, right," the stranger said, quickly dropping the weapon and raising his hands in the air. "About that. See—"

Cross glared at the expensive weapon that had been dropped on the floor and chewed on the inside of his cheek. He held up a hand to cut the stranger off.

"Just tell me how you got into my gorram storeroom, and we'll go from there," he said, deliberately.

"Right, well see, that's sort of hard to explain—"

Cross looked at one of his men and a shot rang out. Everyone stared at the smoking hole in the wall next to the stranger's head.

"Uh, yeah. Okay. Well the abridged version would be a transport spell. Transported me—here, into your—uh—gorram storeroom."

"What in the Guai is this Sha Gwa talkin' about?" Jayne muttered.

"Not a clue, but he's definitely Wu Toh Wu Now," Mal answered.

"I don't like games. Think I'm some sort of drongo? I'll give you one last chance to explain or the next bullet goes in your brain," Cross said.

"Look, I told you the truth all right? I'm not here to nick anything. I only took the gun so I could get out of the damn cage. Hard as this is to believe, even for me, I'm innocent in all this. One minute I'm watchin' the Slayer kick some cloaked wanker about, the next I'm here. Just my bloody luck too. Why did I have to go savin' her anyway? Bloody bitch is always at the root of my problems, I came back to Sunnydale to kill her not save her, and what do I get for my efforts? Bloody well dropped in some gun totin' Aussie's backyard, that's what."

The stranger started rambling away to himself, pacing up and down as he forgot about his audience. Mal had no clue what he was talking about but things were only going to get worse and he would be much happier if he and his crew skipped the rest of this weird show.

"Cross?" he asked slowly, and the Aussie turned, shooting him an exasperated look.

"What?"

"Believe me, I get how this is a serious matter for you. I know how I'd feel if some guy appeared on my ship breakin' down doors and talkin' crazy talk, but we really should get movin'. Our ship hangs around here too long and it'll be bad news for everyone. Alliance cruisers are bound to swing by for a sweep soon and we ain't exactly on their good side."

Cross frowned then nodded.

"All right, you can go. Frank, you take a couple fellas with you to pick up my goods."

The men blocking the exit stood aside and Mal turned to leave relieved. Jayne and Zoe were through the door and he was just following when Cross stopped him.

"Hold up, mate."

Mal turned warily and met Cross' eye.

Cross faced the stranger who was still pacing and muttering to himself.

"Oi, Pom."

The stranger ceased pacing and turned to Cross.

"You don't have none of my gear on you?" Cross asked.

The stranger shook his head and raised his empty hands, waggling his fingers for emphasis.

"And you ain't messed with any of my stock?"

The stranger glanced back at the storeroom for a second, hesitating before he answered.

"No, I didn't. It's all good, just, well the door, but that wasn't entirely my fault," he said.

"Right then. Patch, make sure he hasn't got anythin' on him and send him on his way." Cross turned back to Mal. "Which is where you come in."

"What?" Mal exclaimed. "Cross, I—"

Cross interrupted him.

"I don't know who this bloke is or how he got here, but as long as he ain't here to mess with my operation, he's none of my concern."

"And he ain't none of mine neither," Mal argued.

"He wants to get back wherever he came from and you have a ship. Makes perfect sense to me. 'Sides, you're carryin' passengers now ain't ya? Well now you got yourself another."

Mal looked over at the stranger who was looking back at him. The man smirked and Mal looked back at Cross.

"No way. He's trouble and I got more than my share of that on board right now."

"Maybe I'm not making myself clear. You wanna walk out of here with my money, you take him with ya." Cross jerked a thumb at the pale intruder and gave Mal a hard stare.

Mal wavered, considering just calling an end to the deal and leaving, but knowing they needed the money. With a loud sigh, he rolled his eyes and gave in.

"Fine. You," he said, pointing at his new passenger, "any trouble and I won't think twice about dumpin' your ass into the Black, dohn-ma?"

The stranger blinked, shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather coat and warily nodded. Mal turned back to the open door and finally left Cross' hideout.

"Whai W'rin Bu Jwo," he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

Spike waited for Patch to finish patting him down to make sure he hadn't nicked anything before following the odd looking cowboy that had been forced into giving him a lift. The Aussie named Cross was still glaring at him as he walked past, and Spike hurried towards the door. Call it a hunch, maybe based on all the Pommy remarks, but Spike didn't think that Cross liked Englishmen all that much, especially when they blasted his property to bits. Spike paused at the door cautiously peeking out to make sure the sun was down. How he'd explain his little sun allergy, Spike had no idea, but since it wasn't an issue at the moment as it was apparently evening time, Spike decided to cross that bridge when he came to it and just hope he'd find his way back to Sunnydale before then.

Outside, Spike noticed that wherever they were, they were in the desert. There was dirt everywhere. The roads were dirt, the scenery consisted mostly of dirt, and the horizon was pretty much just dirt or hills _made_ of dirt.

_Sweet little vacation spot I've found myself all right. A vamp in the desert._

Spike shook his head and hurried after Cross' men who were vanishing over a hill, guessing that was where his ride was. Running to catch up, he weaved around Cross' men and the man and woman accompanying the cowboy, slowing when he fell into line with the tall man. He saw an irritated look pass over the guy's face before he did his level best to ignore Spike's presence.

'_Bout to learn ignoring me isn' easy, mate. Peaches and the Slayer have been trying that for years._

"So," Spike started, "mind telling me exactly where it is I've wound up or will I just keep guessing?"

The guy ignored him and increased his stride, but Spike just walked faster and fell into pace with him again.

"Don't tell me it's Kansas? Dorothy gets blown out and I get blown in. Reckon if I click my heels three times I'll get back home?" Spike asked, looking down at his Docs. "Would save you givin' me a lift."

"What are you even talkin' about?" the guy asked, slowing a little as he gave Spike a confused frown.

"Wizard of Oz?" Spike clarified, "you know, Emerald city, yellow brick road, Glinda and the Wicked Witch of the—never mind. Back to my original question. Where are we?" Spike asked again.

It looked like the cowboy spent too much time in the wilderness to be bothered with pop culture. Odd, but then what part of life these days wasn't weird, especially since he'd moved to SunnyD? Spike had just been transported to a storeroom by a glowing blue stick. Nope, weird was pretty much normal these days.

"Three Hills," the guy answered, facing the path ahead again.

"Uh huh."

Spike looked around him again at all the dirt and hills and the little compound they'd just left behind.

"Wonder why they call it that?"

The cowboy remained silent, his mouth forming a tight line. Spike watched him out of the corner of his eye. He was willing to bet money that this one had a short fuse.

"So, exactly how far is this Three Hills from California then? And what's all this talk about a ship? How'd you get a ship here? We're in the bloody desert."

"Nothin' that comes out of your mouth makes a lick of sense you know that?" the cowboy said, refusing to look at Spike again. "Only reason I'm goin' along with this is 'cause I've had enough deals go sour lately to risk havin' my business with Cross go south too. Soon as we get back on board I'm settin' a course for the nearest moon and sayin' adios to you—" the cowboy gave him a quick glance.

"Spike."

The man came to a halt and the troop following them stopped as well. Spike stared up at the guy who frowned and took another sweep of the vamp, all the way from his scuffed Docs to his bleached hair, before meeting his eyes again.

"Spike." The cowboy shook his head. "Nearest moon," he muttered, turning and resuming his path forward. "Nearest gorram moon."

Spike started to follow but came up short again when he finally noticed exactly what they were headed towards. The others passed him by as he stood stock still, staring ahead, his mind gone blank.

_I must be goin' out of my mind_, he thought. _Few too many shocks from the chip. Knew my brain couldn't take much more of that. Gotta admit, it's by far the craziest hallucination I've had yet._

Looming in front of them, in the middle of the desert, sat what Spike could only describe as a spaceship. Large, futuristic, and the last thing Spike would have expected to find in his current barren surroundings.

"What's wrong with this picture?" he mumbled to himself, blinking to see if it would vanish, but no, still there.

Physically shaking himself, Spike watched the little group approach the "ship" and, with a last glance up at it, hurried after them. At least now that comment about the "nearest moon" made sense. Spike had no clue where he'd ended up, but he had a feeling getting back home would be harder than he'd initially thought. Then again…he _was_ about to board a spaceship. Couldn't be too hard to find Earth could it?

_Stupid git. Never think that. That's the quickest way to jinx yourself._

He fell into line behind the others and took his time to look over the craft. It wasn't at all like what you'd see on those Sci-fi shows back home; all shiny and new, not even a scratch on them with bright lights flashing on and off. This actually looked like—well junk. It was a pile of scrap metal—filthy, buckled scrap metal that looked like it was on its last legs. More of the cowboy's crewmembers were waiting for them and they started unloading the goods they'd brought for Cross. Spike stood aside, still eyeing the spacecraft.

_Maybe it looks better on the inside. Has to actually make it through space after all, doesn't it?_ He tried to reassure himself.

"Mal?" Wash tried to grab his Captain's attention as they watched Cross' boys unload the last of the shipment.

"Yeah, Wash?" Mal answered, his eyes never leaving the men working away in front of him.

"Who's that?" Wash asked.

Mal had a good idea who Wash meant but decided to play ignorant. He was still trying to pretend his new passenger didn't exist. In fact it'd be nice to picture just abandoning him here, the hell with Cross' order.

"Who's who?" Mal asked, folding his arms.

"Uh, the pale guy in black with the weird hair that's just staring at Serenity," Wash clarified.

"That would be Spike."

"Oh," Wash said, nodding. "Who's Spike?"

Zoe walked over to them, catching Wash's question. She wrapped one arm around his waist and leaned into him as the three of them turned to watch Spike as he studied Serenity, chewing on his cheek, a somewhat skeptical look on his face.

"Spike's our new passenger, honey," she said, patting his chest, "courtesy of Cross."

"Ah, I see," Wash said. "And since when was a passenger part of the deal?"

Jayne and Kaylee joined them having finished unloading the goods. Jayne glanced over at Spike and snorted.

"Yeah, that's what I'd like to know," he said.

Mal unfolded his arms, took a step forward, turned, and glared at them all.

"Cross wasn't gonna let us walk with his money 'less I agreed to take him with us, all right? He won't be on board long," Mal turned towards Spike again, "we drop him off as soon as possible and never look back."

The others exchanged amused glances.

"Yeah, that's what you said about the other two," Jayne said, walking off.

Mal scowled at his back and Zoe and Wash smirked at him before heading inside too. Mal looked down to see Kaylee beaming up at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothin'," she said, tucking her hands into the pockets of her overalls, still smiling up at him.

Mal shook his head and turned back to Spike.

"Hey!" he shouted, pulling Spike out of his analysis of the ship. "If you're comin' get your ass on board now, we're about to take off."

And with that Mal turned, leaving Spike and the still grinning Kaylee behind.

Spike hovered outside the ship for a second before shaking his head and walking up the ramp. He came to an abrupt halt when he nearly collided with a suspiciously chipper looking girl dressed in a neon multi-colored shirt and greasy overalls.

"Hi," the girl said, brightly.

"Uh, hey," Spike said, stuffing his hands in his duster pockets again.

"I'm Kaylee," the girl continued, holding out her hand for him to shake.

Spike glanced down at the hand, pursed his lips, and raised his eyes back to her smiling face. This girl was far too cheerful for Spike's comfort, and Spike thought he'd seen the pinnacle of giddy peppiness when he'd met the Slayer's little witch friend. Even Red was wary enough of an unexpected stranger not to go throwing out the welcome mat, especially when the stranger in question's presence was obviously not okay with the boss man or in Red's case, bossy bint.

"Yeah, good to know. Uh, I'm just gonna—"

Spike looked behind the girl to the rest of the cargo bay, realizing he had no idea where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do once on board. Captain Cowboy hadn't been very informative. He could always ask the girl… He looked down at her again. She'd withdrawn her hand but it didn't appear his rudeness had phased her good mood much. Spike mentally shuddered. Happy people creeped him out.

"I need to talk to the tall one, so—yeah."

Spike brushed past the girl and began his search for the Captain. Behind him, the girl called out a cheerful goodbye. Spike did another mental shudder and hurried up the catwalk to the second level. He barely turned a corner before bumping into another of the ship's residents. Another woman, and this one was much less cheerful looking.

"Hello?" the woman said looking Spike up and down, confusion flashing across her face before it became impassive.

"Hey. Listen, you know where I can find the Captain? Preferably without runnin' into any more crewmembers? Not really in the mood for the whole meet and greet just now." Spike said, quickly.

The woman seemed a little taken aback, before she pointed off to the left.

"I'd suggest you try the bridge," she replied, her voice cool and precise.

Spike gave her a curt nod and headed for the bridge. The last thing he wanted right now was to have to spend time with another form of Scoobie gang. He hoped that whatever big a pile of junk this thing looked like, it would be fast. Being confined with this bunch for too long when he couldn't eat any of them was a headache he could do without.

Spike snuck up to the bridge, hearing voices. Eyeing the open doorway, he could see the cowboy in there with the woman from Cross' place and a ginger bloke in a loud Hawaiian shirt. Spike looked up at the ceiling.

_Just like the Whelp. Bloody hell, this is like some alternate Scoobie dimension…Are those toy dinosaurs?_

Spike watched the ginger guy position a plastic t-rex on the control panel while the others talked. He groaned inwardly.

'_Least I'm not gonna be stuck living in a basement with this one._

"What exactly are we gonna do with him?" the woman was asking.

"Drop him at the nearest moon like I said, what else?" the cowboy answered, his arms folded.

"So we just abandon him somewhere instead of helping him back home?" Hawaiian shirt asked. "Just to be clear," he continued when the others turned to him.

"The guy busted out of Cross' storeroom with no decent explanation for how he ended up there in the first place. Started yammerin' on about spells and other nonsense. He's got no money, he's not firin' on all cylinders from what I've seen, and do you really want to invite him on board? 'Specially with the other recent additions we've made? We get him off Cross' turf like he wanted and off of Serenity. He can find his own way home after that. 't ain't none of our concern."

Spike stepped closer and cleared his throat loudly. The others turned at the noise and the cowboy's face darkened. Spike leaned in the doorway and looked around the room. The ship didn't look much better from the inside either.

"Not very sporting to drop a bloke in the middle of nowhere with no clue how things work around here. S'pose I shouldn't be too surprised. You're little pow wow with Crocodile Dundee back there's a big enough clue you're not exactly decent, charitable folk, though that doesn't really explain Sunshine down there," Spike said, jerking his head behind him, remembering the grinning girl from the cargo bay.

"The bridge is off limits to passengers," the cowboy said, firmly, lowering one hand and letting it rest above his gun in its holster.

Spike's eyes followed the movement. He smiled and looked back up at Mr. Tall and Pissed.

"Yeah, well, not really a passenger, am I? Passengers would be taken where they want to go."

"_Passengers_ would pay their way," the cowboy answered quickly.

Spike grinned again. "Yeah well, I'm a little short on cash at the moment, but somethin' tells me my dosh wouldn't be worth much locally."

"Then you'll take advantage of my generosity in takin' you anywhere, won't you? I'm gonna speak plain here. I don't trust you, I don't know where you came from or what you were doin' back there, but I do know I don't need to take you on as my problem. I got enough of those."

Spike sighed and dropped his smirk. The guy was set on ditching him at the first opportunity anyway so there was no harm in pushing his luck and finding out what the odds of getting home were.

"Look, I'm not here to cause trouble—for once. All I want is to get back where I belong. Now maybe you won't take me there but at least show me the way or tell me who can before you land me in someone else's backyard."

Spike waited while the others exchanged looks. Eventually Hawaiian shirt spoke up.

"Oh come on, Mal, we can find out where he's from and give the guy a break. Can't hurt, right?" He turned to Spike. "You're English so, you're from Dyton?"

Spike frowned. Was there some planet of Englishmen out there? Odd.

"Uh, no. Never heard of it. Earth, mate. I'm from Earth."

The room went silent and Spike scowled at their blank stares. "What?"

"Tick tock, hands of the clock—something's out of place."

"River?" Simon watched his sister drift around the infirmary in a daze. "River, what is it?"

River turned to look at Simon and smiled at him. "Everything is different now."

Simon frowned in confusion, but before he could voice another question he heard loud voices outside, one of which he didn't recognize. With a worried glance at River, Simon went to investigate, hoping to keep the stranger away from his sister.

"You can stay back here, in the room across from Book. You two'll get along real nice, it's sorta his job to listen and guide people, and you need plenty of guidance, don'tcha?" the tall git said as they walked past some dark-haired bloke who'd appeared outside a nearby door.

"Stop walkin' away! I don't care about your soddin' room! I don't know what sort of barmy dimension I've landed in, but there's no way Earth doesn't exist anymore! How the bleedin' hell am I supposed to get back? What's supposed to have happened to it anyway? Don't tell me that stupid bitch let those hooded guys get her too? She did, din't she? Bollocksed up the whole bloody planet!" Spike roared, getting increasingly irate as the cowboy continued to ignore him.

_Where did that thing send me? Spaceships, weird yes, but certainly not what you'd run into in your average demon dimension from what I've heard, and everyone I've met has been human so…? The future? Parallel dimension? Some other galaxy? Would explain why you get UFO sightings back home—but not why Earth doesn't exist._

Spike's mind raced in confusion. Earth had to exist. If it didn't…well he didn't want to think about that just yet.

"Here you are. Your own private bunk for as long as you're with us, which hopefully won't be long at all," the cowboy continued, opening a door by pressing a panel next to it.

Spike didn't even glance at the door the bastard was pointing to, instead he grabbed the bloke's arm and forced him to turn around before he could vanish back to the bridge. Spike winced as the chip sparked warningly for grabbing the guy a little too roughly, but he brushed it off. He needed answers.

"Tell me what you meant by Earth doesn't exist," Spike ground out, trying to hold in his demon.

The man shoved Spike's hand off his arm and glared at him.

"Earth That Was became uninhabitable years ago. We were over populated and it couldn't sustain us. People moved to a new solar system and terra-formed planets so's humans could survive. That's where we are. Out in the Verse. Everyone knows this. Which is why you can't possibly be from _Earth_. Whatever's made you believe you are's got nothin' to do with me."

Spike stared back at him and continued staring even after the guy had started to walk away. Where _was_ he? This couldn't be happening. His luck just _couldn't _be that bad. Only it sure seemed like it was. He heard the cowboy's voice again and realized he was speaking to the dark-haired guy they'd passed earlier who seemed to have followed them.

"Spike's gonna be on board for a little bit, if you're concerned maybe you should check him out. After all, you have experience dealin' with crazy people, don't you, Doc?"

The dark-haired guy set his mouth in a thin line at that before glancing at Spike and rushing to catch up to the captain, halting him in his tracks and whispering to him in hushed tones. It didn't do much against vamp hearing.

"You can't leave him here. What if he—? It isn't safe to put a stranger down here with us. Just having him on board the ship is a risk."

"Like I said, he ain't gonna be here long. 'Sides, we have no choice 'less we wanna get into a situation with Cross. Just keep to yourselves and everything'll be fine. He has other things on his mind right now anyway, like the fact he's lost it."

"Mal, this is dangerous. If he has to be on the ship why can't you put him in the spare bunk upstairs?"

The cowboy, Mal, not that Spike was concerned with names right now, looked over at the scowling vampire and patted the other man on the shoulder.

"Because upstairs is the crew's quarters. The crew I know and trust," he continued before the shorter man could interrupt. "And I want him as far away from me as possible, just like the rest of you passengers."

Mal finally walked off and left them both standing in the corridor. Warily, the other man turned to Spike.

"What?" Spike snapped.

"Nothing," the other man said, then paused, "you think that you're—from Earth?"

"Not think, _know_."

"I see," the man said. "And when exactly did you realize that you weren't on Earth anymore?"

"When I took the express teleportation ride to an Aussie's back room and ended up on some cowboy's bleedin' spaceship," Spike snapped. "As barmy as you think I sound, talkin' about Earth and spells and the like trust me, it's much more believable where I come from than some knock-off Clint Eastwood ridin' around space in a shoddy scrap metal version of the Enterprise."

The man just stood there regarding Spike.

"You should probably get some rest while you can," he said, walking away.

The bloke didn't get very far before running into another person, an older man with grey hair, clutching a book and with a towel draped over one shoulder.

_Fantastic. Another bloody human I'm stuck with._

"Sheppard," the dark haired guy said.

"Simon," the other man acknowledged before noticing Spike. "Hello," he said.

Spike scoffed. How many more people were on this glorified tin can?

"The newest passenger, Sheppard. A temporary passenger," Simon explained as he left.

Spike scowled at his back. As if he hadn't worked out by now that he wasn't welcome here. Well that was nothing new. He saw the Sheppard getting closer, noticing for the first time the collar around his neck. He took a closer look at the book in the man's hands. Spike chuckled and shook his head. _Of course._

"Something funny, young man?"

Spike looked up with a smile. _Young man, yeah._

"You're a preacher."

"Yes. I take it from your amusement that you are a non-believer?"

Spike smirked. "You could say that."

The preacher smiled with a little chuckle of his own.

"Well you wouldn't be the only one of those on board."

"I bet. Before you go tryin' to convert me, let me save you the trouble. Don't. 'Cause it's not gonna happen."

"I'm not going to try and covert you, son. People deserve to believe in whatever they choose."

"Yeah, well I'm not people. Do yourself a favor and just pretend I'm not here," Spike said, turning towards his room. "Soon won't be," he muttered.

_But where will I be?_ he wondered to himself, as he closed the door on the preacher using a panel on the wall inside like the one he'd seen Mal use.

_Apparently not Earth. Balls._


	3. Chapter 3

Spike had a problem. Scratch that, he had several. He was stuck on a spaceship in some new solar system in the future where Earth was a distant memory. He was also about to be dropped on some barren planet or moon without a hint of where or how to find help, because the Captain of this fine vessel disliked him—immensely. Spike wasn't even certain anyone here _could_ help him. Now, a new problem was slowly making itself known. Spike was getting hungry.

It shouldn't have surprised him. After all, Spike had been on his way back to the crypt with more blood before he got sucked into this mess in the first place. Was it any wonder he was getting peckish? Spike quickly identified the problem his growing hunger created almost as soon as he realized his need. Just how was he supposed to find blood while he was floating around in this hunk of metal?

Spike growled, thinking how yet again the chip had screwed him over. If he couldn't bite anyone, blood was going to be an awful lot harder to come by while he was stuck here, wasn't it?

_Bollocks. Fine mess you're in now, mate._

Spike rose from the small bed in his temporary room and rubbed his face wearily. He had to think of something. It was possible he could last until they landed wherever they were bound for, but who knew if he'd be any better off? From the looks of the last planet, butchers and hospitals looked to be hard to come by, not to mention it could be daylight when they did reach their destination, and the last thing Spike needed now was his sun allergy adding to his list of hardships. He needed to weigh his options here on board and maybe get some info on what resources would be available to him when this Mal bloke booted him off the ship.

With a grimace, Spike headed for the door, pausing for a minute to let his senses roam and determine if he was going to run into any of the chuckle party outside. He didn't pick up any heartbeats in the immediate vicinity, so Spike stepped out into the corridor and began to wander around. A few more doors similar to his own were located down another short corridor, and he figured they were the rest of the passenger dorms. It was unlikely he'd find anything of use down there, so Spike headed back the way he'd come when Mal led him down from the Bridge. He didn't go far before pausing in the small common room outside the door Simon had emerged from.

_The infirmary, huh? Come to think of it, the Tall One did call him Doc._

Spike double checked that no one was around and cautiously entered. He doubted they'd have any blood lying about, but this being a whole new world who knew what he'd find?

He rooted through the medical supplies and took a gander at the equipment. Not too different from any other hospital but some of the gadgets were a tad fancier than back home, not that he had a clue what half those tools and machines back home were for either. Spike was no doctor. No blood lying about, not that he expected to find it. Hell, not even any blood covered rags or gauze. Didn't these people bleed? They were supposed to be criminals, some of them anyway.

_Getting desperate, mate. What were you gonna do, suck a blood soaked cloth for the barest flavor?_

Spike wasn't that desperate yet, but who's to say he wouldn't think differently when he started looking like a famine victim again? He eyed what he took to be drugs and thought back to the Initiative. He remembered how they'd doped him up and wondered if there was a drug here that could numb the pain of the chip, but keep him alert enough to snack on one of the locals.

_Fat chance._

He snorted and turned away. He was clutching at straws and he knew it. He frowned and cocked his head, regarding the fancy equipment again. A new thought was forming. Even though the only planet he'd seen so far had been close to a barren wasteland, that didn't mean everywhere in this solar system was the same. Judging from the infirmary and the fact that he was currently riding around in a sodding spaceship, people here must be reasonably high tech, more-so than the Commando boys back home had been, and this being a pretty poorly funded boat, there was always the possibility…

Food for thought later, Spike decided. His best bet now was probably to start learning about this place. The more details he had the more likely he was to find a way of surviving, at least until he could work out a way to get back.

Exiting the infirmary, Spike wandered on through the common area and upstairs where he located most of the passengers and crew gathered in a cheery looking dining hall that also served as the kitchen. Spike stayed in the shadows just outside the doorway. They hadn't noticed him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way for now. You were more likely to overhear something interesting than you were to be told it, at least in Spike's experience.

The room itself was painted a bright yellow and had a sickeningly homey feel to it. A girlish, flowery border crawled around the sunny walls, and Spike rolled his eyes when he saw it.

_I wonder who's responsible for that?_ he thought wryly, just as the cheerful girl in overalls popped into view, plopping down in a chair at the table and grinning over at the exotic looking bird with the breezy tone Spike had met on his way to the bridge.

The Doc, the Preacher, and the rough spoken guy who'd been fondling his gun on the walk back from Cross' camp made up the rest of the room's occupants. No sign of Captain Cowboy or the other two.

"Don't know what Mal's thinkin' lately, takin' two crazy people on board. I reckon' he's startin' to lose it himself. Whole sorry business and lack o' work is messin' with his head," Gun Boy said from where he was sitting, polishing a large knife.

"He had no choice. Unless you wanted to do another job where you didn't get paid," Miss Cheerful said.

"I understand his reasons but that doesn't mean I agree with them," the Doc broke in. "After everything he's said to me about how we put you all in danger, I don't understand how he can take this risk."

"I don't see that it's entirely that large a risk," the dark haired, exotic girl spoke up. "From what I've heard, it sounds like he doesn't know anything about life out here. Whatever the explanation for his mental state is, if he's not even aware of his the world he's living in, I don't see how he's much of a threat in that way.

Spike couldn't help a low growl at hearing that. That was him all over these days. Not a threat. Not a threat anymore because of what those scientists had done to him. No one feared him now. As far as they were concerned he was a useless complication; a pain in the ass and nothing more. It was the same story here as it was in Sunnydale.

"Spike?"

Spike jerked his attention back to the room. The peppy little girl was sitting up straighter, having noticed him at last. Everyone in the room was looking at him, some guiltily, others warily, and Gun Boy had a smirk on his face.

"Didn't mean to crash the party," Spike said, slipping back into a casual manner as he surveyed his audience.

"No party, the girl said, hopping up and walking over to him, "just—relaxing," she said with a smile.

"Yeah," Spike said, "I noticed. Havin' a nice chat were we?"

He smirked when the girl looked away, uncomfortable. Spike wandered further into the room and leaned against the kitchen wall.

"Don't let me interrupt, I love hearin' your theories about my mental state," he said, cocking his head to the side, still smirking.

"We don't mean to be insulting," the dark haired girl said, "but something must have happened if you don't remember where you came from or anything about life here."

"Wrong, luv. I do remember where I came from. Problem is it's beyond your comprehension. Sounds crazy to you, yeah? Bloke pops up claiming he's from Earth, which, I'm told, hasn't been around for a good many years as far as you lot are concerned. Don't ask me to explain how it happened exactly, but fact is, I _am_ from Earth and some demon with some fancy magic rod sent me here. Or more accurately, attempted to send the Slayer here until I got caught in the crossfire."

Spike shook his head in irritation, remembering the incident again.

"Still don't understand why I got involved anyway. Not like the chit was gonna thank me for it later." He scoffed again. "Not that I even _wanted_ her to thank me for it in the first place. Bloody hell."

"You have to understand that that's impossible," the girl continued, shaking her head. "There's no way you could possibly have come from Earth That Was. And all this talk of demons and—and Slayers?" She glanced at the Preacher who gave her a concerned look before focusing back on Spike.

"Spike—" the man began, but Spike snarled and cut him off.

They all looked taken aback at his outburst, but Spike was pissed off. He was approaching the point where he'd show them what a demon was, and proving that he wasn't some barmy amnesiac or whatever they thought. Even if he couldn't hurt them, they didn't know that, and he could give them a fright. The only thing preventing him from doing so was the knowledge that it could land him in even worse trouble than he was already in, and like it or not, he was stuck with them until the ship landed. It wouldn't do to make them think he could be a danger to them.

Of course his demon was finding it very difficult to listen to that reasoning as the rage built within it, and the beast was longing to let loose its frustration. Spike decided to vent his anger another way instead—by yelling.

"Don't try and preach at me, mate. I told you I'm not into that, and if you had any sense you'd know better than to try. I don't know why I bother explaining anything to you people anyway. You obviously haven't had a run in with magic for yourselves yet so you won't take my word for it, but trust me, when you do, all this won't seem so far-fetched."

"Guy's crazier than I gave him credit for," Gun Boy murmured.

"Jayne," Cheery argued, glaring at him.

"What?" he said, defensively. "You tellin' me you don't think he's been driftin' in the Black a little too long? I say we toss him 'fore he starts showin' other signs of madness—if you get my meanin'."

"Jayne, was it?" Spike asked, glaring at the man.

"Yeah," Jayne answered slowly, eyeing Spike dangerously.

"Isn't that a girl's name?"

Jayne leapt from his seat and pointed a menacing finger at Spike.

"I been through this already with the other one. I ain't no girl, and you'd best be thinkin' twice 'fore you start bringin' up that girl's name crap with me. I don't care how shy a full deck you are, I won't hesitate to knock that head o' yours around! Heck, maybe it'd do you some damn good."

Spike knew he shouldn't antagonize someone he would be defenseless against, and the guy had a point. No matter how strong Spike might be, in his current position the only thing being a vampire was good for was coping with pain better than he would if he were human and healing faster, but without blood any kind of healing he'd need to do would take a lot longer. That still didn't stop him from getting into the man's face further and trying to stare him down. He could at least look intimidating, even though he was shorter than Jayne.

"Boys, please," the dark haired girl said, moving to try and separate.

"Stay out of this, Inara!" Jayne snapped. "Boy wants trouble, I'll oblige him."

"Go Hwong Tong," she said sternly, glaring at both of them.

"Sorry luv," Spike said, "I don't speak Chinese."

Inara blinked. Jayne frowned and then rolled his eyes, walking away.

"Course not. Ai Chr Jze Se Duh Fohn Diang Gho," Jayne muttered loudly, stabbing his knife into the table.

"So that's a thing here is it? Everyone speaks Chinese? Yet another way to make me stand out and look crazy I s'pose."Spike mumbled.

The sound of a girl's laughter came from the door behind Spike and the room's occupants turned, startled, to the newcomer. Spike frowned at the new girl. He hadn't seen her before. She was young. She was dressed in a rust colored dress and her black hair hung down in tendrils about her face. She was barefoot, Spike noticed curiously, and there was something—off—about her. A vibe came from her—an innocence that should have been tainted by now.

"River, what are you doing?" Simon hurried over to the girl and placed a protective arm on her shoulder, glancing warily in Spike's direction. "I told you to stay in your room for now," he whispered to her, gently, not quite a reprimand but more of a warning.

"There's nothing," she said, watching Spike, a small smile still playing across her lips but her eyes searching.

Spike shifted a little uncomfortably at her gaze. He expected to be stared at by now. All anyone had done since he got here was stare at him. The girl was different though. She was _looking_ at him, not at some crazy guy who was completely out of place in her familiar surroundings, but _at_ him. Spike was getting paranoid that she could see more than she should.

"River, come on, we should—" Simon began when River's eyes widened and she shot back suddenly with a frightened whimper.

"Bad! Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Simon! We can't let it—we can't let it come—"

The girl, River, flew back against the wall behind her and sank to the ground. Her hands flew up to wrap around the back of her neck and she drew her legs up to huddle against her knees. Spike looked on startled as Simon rushed over and dropped down on one knee next to her, reaching for her and trying to calm her down. What was she talking about? What had she seen? He noticed the others were darting looks from the girl to him, suspicion evident in their expressions. Jayne opened his mouth to speak when Mal's disembodied voice echoed into the room.

"Kaylee, I need you in the engine room now. We got Reavers."

Spike had no bloody clue what Reavers were, but from the reaction the news generated in everyone else, he knew they couldn't be good. A shocked gasp came from the normally cheerful Kaylee, and Spike watched her dash out of the door opposite as if she were on fire. Jayne grimaced and yanked his knife out of the table then pushed past Spike and into the corridor that held the crew's quarters. The others stood in shock for a moment before Simon urged River to her feet and led her away, most likely back downstairs to her room. They seemed to have all forgotten about Spike, stealing themselves for this new threat.

The Preacher slowly sat down at the table, and Inara moved opposite him, also calmly sitting down. Spike watched them both and with an irritated sigh, left the room intent on heading for the Bridge. No way was he staying in that room in complete silence with those two, waiting for—whatever it was that was coming.

* * *

><p>"What the bloody hell are Reavers?"<p>

Mal tensed at the sound of Spike's voice drifting in from the doorway behind him and screwed his eyes shut. Taking a deep breath, he opened them again and turned, grinding his teeth a little when they landed on the blond leaning against the frame with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, looking bored.

"I thought I told you," Mal began, slowly, "no passengers on the Bridge. Get back to your room. I don't have time to be dealin' with you now."

Mal turned back to Wash who was monitoring the approach of a Reaver ship carefully while Zoe looked on over his shoulder.

"How close are they?" Mal asked.

"Another minute and you'll be able to see 'em," Wash said, glancing out at the black sky before quickly turning his attention back to the monitors.

"Look, you can at least explain to me who these Reavers are. I'm gettin' fed up of being in the dark as to how things work around here," Spike interrupted.

Mal grabbed his gun and spun, pointing his weapon at Spike with a steady hand and an even steadier gaze.

"You keep yammerin' on and things are gonna get a whole lot darker for you," he said, while Spike stared down the barrel of the gun with interest. "You don't need to know nothin' I don't see fit to tell you. Now, I got somethin' a damn sight more important and worryin' to contend with right now than your confusion, Spike, so you'd best just head back to your room and stay there 'til we get through this and land."

Mal and Spike stood opposite one another, staring each other down, neither one moving. Mal increased pressure on the trigger ever so slightly, preparing. If Spike was testing him, he was dumber than Mal had given him credit for. The blond ran his tongue along his teeth, looking thoughtful. The seconds ticked by. A muscle in Mal's jaw twitched.

"Mal," Wash said, suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What?" Mal snapped, never taking his eyes off Spike.

"They're here," Wash said, and Mal finally turned to see the Reaver ship floating towards them.

"Everyone, be very quiet. If we're lucky, they'll just pass us on by," Mal whispered, his eyes trained on the imposing vessel cutting through the blackness.

Nobody moved, all watching the Reaver ship. Even Spike kept his mouth shut. Mal was relieved the idiot seemed to have enough sense to know they were in danger. Seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity, and Mal was aware of Zoe squeezing her husband's shoulder beside him. After a time, Wash breathed a sigh of relief and swiveled to face his captain.

"They're passing us."

Everyone relaxed, and Mal only realized how tense he'd truly become when he slumped his shoulders and relaxed the grip he'd had on his revolver.

"You sure they came from Caspia?" Mal asked.

Wash nodded, grimly. "What do you wanna do, Mal? Safer to keep movin'."

"I don't doubt that," Mal said, considering his choices. "Take her down."

Wash sighed and swiveled back to the controls. Zoe caught Mal's eye.

"Sir? What we find down there might not be worth findin'."

"I know Zoe, but chances are they won't feel a need to return to a place they just hit. We need to wait 'em out. I remember what happened the last time we thought we'd gotten off easy. They followed us to Whitefall. We might be able to pick up some supplies down there…Maybe they didn't get everyone."

Zoe cast her eyes downward and Mal turned back to Spike.

"Get back to your room, we'll be landin' soon." Mal stepped around the blond with the intention of heading to his bunk. Spike had other ideas.

"Hang on just a bloody minute, mate. You lot have been shakin' in your boots over these Reavers like they're death incarnate and now you're gonna land on a planet, moon, whatever, that they just attacked? Did I really piss you off that much?"

Mal sighed and turned around again. "This has nothin' to do with you."

"Oh no? I seem to remember you spelling out for me just how you were gonna leave my ass stranded on the first hunk of rock you set down on. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather that not be someplace that was just torn up by whatever the hell a Reaver is."

Mal wiped one hand down his face, tiredly. Why oh why did the verse seem intent on throwing problem after problem his way? And since when did he stop just running from them?

"I'm not gonna—" Mal struggled to finish the sentence, "strand you on Caspia. Not after Reavers attacked it. Wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. We stop, check it out, make sure we got the all clear to fly without an attack then head somewhere else…_Then_ I leave your ass on a hunk of rock."

"Thanks ever so," Spike said with a roll of his eyes.

Mal opened the hatch to his bunk and took hold of the ladder, cutting off any further conversation, and leaving his unwelcome guest to hopefully go back to his bunk or at least bother one of the other passengers.

* * *

><p>"So what exactly are these Reavers you're all so petrified of then?"<p>

Zoe and Wash turned back to Spike who had decided trying to get a straight answer out of the two people who hadn't yet managed to piss him off royally, setting aside the similarities Spike saw between the pilot of this boat and the whelp, was much more preferable to heading back to the kitchen. Besides, he needed a distraction from the hunger gradually creeping up on him, at least until he found a suitable solution.

"Reavers are the worst nightmare you could possibly imagine," Zoe began, standing tall, her voice deadly serious.

Spike snorted. "Doubtful, but go on."

"For a long time people thought Reavers were just a myth, a cautionary tale for those who ventured too far into the Black, but they aren't a myth. Some say they're men who stared into empty space and lost their minds to it. Others say they aren't really men. Either way, if you get attacked by Reavers, chances are you're gonna die, but not before you've experienced the worst kind of torture, abuse, and horror ever conceived."

"Uh huh. Not really men, eh? Must be quite a stretch for such rational folk as you lot to believe," Spike said, strolling into the small cockpit, eyeing the instruments.

He picked up one of the plastic dinosaurs beside Wash, a t-rex, and admired it for a second, his eyes roaming over the pointed, plastic teeth.

"It's more likely that they're men who went crazy at the edge of space. Starin' into all that vast, unending blackness? It'd probably make anyone go a little nutty," Wash said, eyeing the dinosaur in Spike's hands.

"Or," Spike began slowly, catching Wash's eye, "maybe there really are monsters out there. Maybe," Spike leaned down a little, bending closer to Wash, unblinking, "there's more to the world than what your tiny human minds can comprehend. Maybe—you have no idea what you're dealing with, but you're about to set foot in its backyard anyway."

Wash stared back into Spike's eyes, as the Brit grinned, showing his teeth. Spike saw the muscles in Wash's throat work as the man swallowed and knew he was getting to him. He straightened abruptly and tossed the t-rex back at Wash who caught it absently with both hands.

"Well, guess I'd better let you get back to landing this thing," Spike said, slipping past Zoe as she watched him, warily. "Oh and uh," Spike paused in the doorway, "you happen to know if the sun's up on Caspia?"

"It will be soon," Wash replied, getting his voice back and shrugging off the odd feeling Spike had given him.

Spike chewed on the inside of his cheek, frowning.

"Of course it will," he muttered, then turned and walked off, heading back downstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Caspia reeked of death. Spike could smell it as soon as the air lock opened, like a wall of blood and dead meat assailing his senses, seeping into his pores, and making the demon within howl in a mixture of glee and frustration. The stench of it was so strong, Spike didn't doubt that the others could smell it too, albeit not as overwhelmingly as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Jayne grimace and turn his head away. Mal was doing his best to look unfazed, but even he had flinched when the smell reached him.

Mal, Zoe, Jayne, Simon, and Spike were all going outside. Simon was going in case they found survivors in need of help, which judging by the looks the others had shared when Mal was briefing them earlier, wasn't high on their list of expectations. He'd also help them to pick up any medical supplies that might be of use to them, while the others scavenged for other useful goods. Spike, after an argument, had convinced Mal to let him accompany them to stretch his legs and get a look at exactly what these Reavers were capable of. Of course by convinced, he meant threatened to wreck the ship while they were away. That hadn't gone down well, but the Inara bird stepped in again and hinted that seeing the damage the Reavers had done might _help_ Spike.

_Help me. Help scare some sense into me and make me fall in line, right? Well, too bad for them, I've seen a lot of terrible things in the demon world. Reavers can't be much worse._

The sun was due to rise soon according to Dino-boy. A problem, yeah, but Spike could stick to the shadows as much as possible and stay close to the ship. They'd landed just outside of a town, and there were a few shacks and huts dotted around the ship that Spike could make a dash to under his duster if absolutely necessary once the sun was in the right spot.

He wasn't lying about the need to stretch his legs. Spike didn't do confined spaces for long. It reminded him of being trapped inside that sodding cage the Initiative had locked him up in, not to mention the fact he was stuck with a bunch of humans he couldn't eat or fight or really annoy the way he could the Scoobies. This lot were too trigger happy to risk pushing them beyond a certain point. Besides, he had his own reasons to go scavenging himself.

As reluctant as Mal had been to allow Spike to go with them, he downright refused to allow the Brit to carry any weapons, which didn't really bother Spike since he wouldn't be able to use them on a human, and he had his fists and fangs for anything else, but he made a show of complaining about it anyway. After all, the only thing that would make him look crazier at this point was refusing a weapon when willingly entering a town that had just been attacked by monsters. Spike had been told to say close, but not too close, and just keep his eyes peeled. With a mock salute, Spike had complied, and was now part of the small party exploring the remains of Caspia.

The smells were driving Spike's demon mad. So much violence, so much death had occurred here, and Spike was incapable of causing anything like it himself thanks to the Commando wankers. Making their way towards the town, the crew cautiously began checking the surrounding area. The ground was scorched in places and stained with blood in others. Spike had to struggle to restrain his demon as the smell of blood intensified. The hunger became a more persistent ache the closer he got to the source.

The crew began searching a few of the buildings. They retreated quickly from places that held nothing but death and carnage, although Zoe did find food reserves intact in one of the abandoned buildings. Spike moved around the town, staying within sight of the others, unwilling to enter any of the buildings just yet. Closing his eyes, he used his senses to get a feel for the place, trying and failing to ignore the smells. He frowned when something caught his attention. Opening his eyes he turned to one large building the crew had yet to check.

Cautiously, Spike wandered over and entered the building. Glancing around, he realized he was in some sort of town hall and either there had been a meeting of some sort going on at the time or people had run to it for refuge, because this was where most of the bodies were. Spike began to see why everyone was so frightened of these Reavers. Even he found the sight disturbing. Angelus had been fond of torture, and Spike had partaken in the activity himself back in the good old days, but it was nothing compared with what he was seeing now. He knew of demons that did this sort of thing, even human cannibals, but usually that was for food and nothing more. While the Reavers obviously ate their kill too, it seemed it wasn't their only motivation, as they'd left so many of their victims behind.

"What are you—Ai Yah Tien Ah."

Spike didn't bother to turn at the sound of Mal's voice. He heard the others enter behind their captain and gasp or pull up short at the sight. The skinned remains of the townspeople were strung up from the ceiling, blood dripping down to the floor underneath where yet more bodies lay strewn, torn apart and shredded, bones exposed where chunks of flesh had been ripped off in some sort of wild feeding frenzy. An array of other bodily fluids coated the walls and floor, and the whole place stank like a nest of Quognach demons. Jayne dry wretched while Zoe covered her mouth and grimaced, and Simon stumbled hurriedly outside to vomit. The good doctor may well be used to blood and gore, but faced with a sight like this, you'd have to be pretty screwed up not to react. Mal took in the sight slowly, horrified, yet doing his level best to hide it.

"We should bury them," he said then, his voice even but detached.

Spike gave him a quick glance. He hadn't been expecting that. Mal had been keeping up an "I don't give a toss about anyone that has nothin' to do with me" attitude since Spike had met him. Yet here he was, willing to take the time to bury complete strangers that had been strung up like pigs. Why? To give them some last scrap of dignity? Out of respect? Thinking about it, maybe the thought of dropping Spike here after the Reaver attack and taking off really hadn't crossed Mal's mind after all.

_Maybe the good Captain isn't quite so big and bad as he pretends to be._

"You can help," Mal said then, meeting Spike's gaze.

_Then again…_

"What?" Spike asked, glancing at the mess of limbs on the floor.

"Make yourself useful for a change," Mal said, "you wanted to come, you can share in the work."

Spike was about to argue when he remembered why he'd entered the hall in the first place and turned away, scanning the broken furniture and body parts. He closed his eyes again and concentrated. He knew there was something…

_There!_

Spike's eyes snapped open and he turned towards a shadowy corner to his left. Stalking over, he shoved aside a pile of debris and uncovered what he'd sensed as prey. A man lay there, and he was in bad shape. He was smeared red with his own blood, and his guts were spilling out of a gash in his stomach. One of his ears was missing, and his skin was bruised and torn all over. His heart beat was fluttering weakly, gradually getting slower, fainter, as time wore on. Spike was surprised he'd hung on this long.

"What are you doin' now?" Mal asked, shoving Spike aside and staring down at the man on the floor in surprise.

Mal exchanged a wary glance with Spike who shrugged. Mal then squatted next to the man and reached a hand out to him. The guy was staring blindly into the distance, panting shallowly. As Mal was just about to touch him the man jerked sideways violently, both arms coming up to clutch at Mal's shoulders. Mal flinched and jerked backwards but the man's grip was firm and held him fast. He stared into Mal's eyes and opened his mouth, a raspy cry emerging from his throat that turned into a blood curdling scream before he started choking and blood began to gurgle out of his mouth. With a final sigh he released Mal who fell backwards and hit the floor hard, narrowly avoiding smacking his head by landing on his elbows. He stared aghast as the guy slumped backwards, his head rolling to the side and another sigh escaping his parted lips while a small trickle of blood continued to spill from the corner of his mouth.

"Shun Sheng Duh Gao Wahn!" Mal shouted, gasping in shock, as he hurried to his feet, still staring at the man's now limp body.

Spike cocked his head and watched as more of the man's innards slipped out of the gaping wound in his stomach from all of the movement.

"Must have been a reflex," Spike said with another shrug. "Either he got knocked about in the confusion or managed to pull that lot over him," Spike went on, nodding at the debris he'd removed when uncovering the victim, "but that stuff hiding him from view is the only thing that saved him from a flaying like the others."

"Saved isn't exactly a word I'd use for a man what just saw his kin get torn up and eaten by those animals. 'Sides, he ain't gonna pull through. Not even our genius of a doc's gonna be able to help him now."

Mal pulled out his weapon and aimed it at the man. Spike's eyes widened, seeing what Mal was about to do and he quickly stepped in front of the weapon, blocking Mal's aim.

"Whoa there, Cap'n. No need for that, all right."

"I'm puttin' him outta his misery, now move."

Mal made a move to go around Spike but Spike darted in front of him again. Mal sighed and stepped back, a scowl settling on his face as he faced off with the vamp yet again.

"Any misery he was in has passed now. He can't feel anythin' anymore and in a minute he'll be dead. There's no need to waste a bullet on him. His pain is over now, nothin' but a shell left. Body hasn't shut down completely is all, but any part of the man inside vacated with that last little outburst. Now just put the gun away, yeah? Got a lot of dead to bury."

Mal squinted at Spike, no doubt wondering what the blond's motivation was. He'd lowered his gun but seemed unsure whether or not to agree with the Brit. Spike was doing his best not to get twitchy with anticipation as he waited for Mal to make his mind up. Eventually Jayne came back, but paused in the doorway.

"Mal, Zoe found a stash of engine parts we can probably use and the doc dug up some medical gear. You wanna take it back 'fore we cut this lot down?"

Mal paused, eyeing Spike and the man on the floor a moment longer before answering Jayne.

"I'll come take a look at those parts. Get what we can use together and then start diggin'," he answered. Turning around, he paused to point a finger at Spike. "You're helpin'."

Spike nodded agreeably. "Yeah, yeah, I'm helpin'. I'll just—see he goes quietly first."

Mal squinted at Spike again before turning his back and walking out of the building with Jayne. Spike watched him leave, and when he was sure none of the crew were going to come back in, turned to the dying man again. He was almost gone now, had but a few seconds remaining. Spike bent down on one knee before the failing human.

"Nothin' personal, mate. Jus' a little hard up right now is all and you're the best meal I'm likely to get around here. Too out of it to feel pain, already opened up in too many places for another wound to make any difference—shouldn't set off this little toy in my noggin'—" Spike smirked, tapping the side of his head as he spoke, his eyes flicking over the blood stained man who was breathing his last, "to put you out of your misery."

Spike's arm shot out, grabbed the back of the man's neck and tugged him forward. Using his other hand to pull the man's collar out of the way, Spike's face shifted and he leaned in, inhaling. He licked at the red trail running down the man's neck from his missing ear and growled. His yellow eyes zoned in on his target. Running his tongue over his fangs, Spike opened his mouth and drew closer. With a few steadying breaths to prepare himself just in case he was wrong and the chip did fire, Spike willed himself into action. Hunger and rage swelled up inside him until he was piercing the vulnerable flesh, his fangs plunging into the man's jugular, blood flowing into the vampire's eager mouth.

The only noise the man made was a brief whimpering sound, and Spike's chip buzzed for a second, no more than a tingle he could barely feel as the satisfying life force rushed down his throat, making him strong again. He knew the moment the guy died, shortly after Spike had taken his first draught. He growled against the man's neck in brief acknowledgement to his food source's passing. It wasn't a full meal. The man had been pretty drained of his blood before Spike could find him, but it was enough for now, and Spike was no fool. He'd gladly accept whatever opportunities presented themselves. He was learning fast that in this world, survival was something he'd have to struggle for, and Spike was never one to give up a fight.

* * *

><p>Mal was just about to go looking for Spike when he emerged from the town hall at last, pausing in the doorway and wiping his mouth with one hand. He'd been in there much longer than should have been necessary. Mal wondered if maybe he'd been throwing up like Simon had, but the Brit didn't seem to be bothered by the horrific sight. On the contrary, he'd seemed merely—curious. He hadn't shied away from the smell, nor had he flinched at the gruesome sight, merely observing the scene with a grim fascination. Still, he'd been in there longer than anyone else. No matter how tough you were, staying in a room like that for long would eventually wear a man down. There was something about the way Spike was acting, almost relaxed, amiable even, that didn't sit well with Mal. He was starting to think he'd have to keep a sharper eye on the blond, even if he preferred to ignore him.<p>

Mal walked over to the Brit who dropped his hand from his face quickly and gave Mal a curt nod. Mal noticed that Spike's shirt was dampened with blood, and more of it was on his jeans and boots. Spike saw Mal staring and coughed.

"He's gone now. Checked him and slipped a bit with the mess…" Spike said, shrugging. "So, I don't see anyone digging."

"Change of plans," Mal said. "We're making a funeral pyre. Too many bodies to bury separately and disease will set in soon. We burn 'em, then bury the ashes, lay 'em to rest. Start hauling wood. There's plenty of it lyin' around we can use."

Mal started heading back to help Jayne with the pyre. Zoe and Simon were bringing the supplies they'd found back to Serenity. He wasn't looking forward to handling the bodies, but those people deserved a proper resting place. He couldn't leave them hung up there like something in a butcher shop. The thought of doing so didn't sit well with him.

* * *

><p>Spike watched Mal walk away and slowly started to follow. Fire wasn't something he was keen on playing with, and gathering the sharp bits of wood they were picking up or tearing off the shacks wasn't very appealing either. Still, he'd just have to be careful. He'd managed to stave off his hunger at last…for a little while. No need to go getting riddled with bullet holes now because he went back on his word to help clean up this mess.<p>

He was halfway over to Mal and Jayne when a nagging feeling hit him. Something inside him was humming, warning him, and it wasn't the chip. He stopped and looked around, but could see nothing to worry about—then he looked towards the horizon.

_Oh, bugger._

The sky had brightened and a red tint was forming in the distance. The sun was rising. Spike's fingers twitched as he took in the approaching signs of the fiery ball of death as it began hauling itself into view. He wouldn't have long left before the smoke would start to rise, and he'd be joining the other dead bodies going up in flames today. He was stuck wondering what to do.

Ideally, he'd just make a break for the ship, to hell with the pyre, but Mal's patience might just run out all together if he did that, and Spike was still unsure of what the cowboy was capable of. In one way he seemed a decent bloke, but the way he held his weapon steady, and that hard look in his eye suggested he had no problem killing a man if he saw fit to do so. Of course a bullet wouldn't kill Spike, but it would hurt like hell, and he'd have some luck trying to explain why it didn't kill him like it should. Of course, if he burst into flames all of a sudden that would be pretty hard to explain too, not that he'd be around long enough to do so.

"Uh, on second thought, maybe I should do somethin' else to help. Somethin' indoors," Spike said, casting glances at the approaching sunlight and back to Mal and Jayne who'd paused in their work.

"What?" Mal asked sternly, glaring at Spike.

"Not that I'm trying to get out of helping, just—I don't do sunlight very well—have a, uh, allergy. Yep. Bad skin, blisters, pustules—all very nasty and unattractive. I'm sure the Doc's heard of it. Anyway, yeah, all reasons I shouldn't be out here when Mr. Sunshine gets up, so, I should maybe go help with the supplies back on the ship, right?" Spike said, backing up and preparing to leave.

"A sun allergy?" Mal asked skeptically. "Spike, I don't know what crap you're tryin' to pull here but you ain't goin' back to the ship now after badgerin' me to let you come with us and sayin' you'd help. You really have an issue with the sun, which I find fascinatin' and would love to see for myself, pustules an' all, then fine. You can still help by cuttin' down and wrappin' those bodies in there."

Spike hesitated, glanced back at the horizon and relented. Nodding at Mal he made a quick search of the buildings for sheets or tarps he could use and a knife and headed back to the town hall. He'd have a hell of a time getting back to the ship without being flambéed, unless he waited for the sun to start descending again, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wouldn't win, he'd have to make do. Besides, it made more sense for him to do this job, messy as it was, than deal with the pyre. He wasn't exactly squeamish and he didn't have to breathe, so blocking out the smell would be easier for him…although keeping his demon at bay surrounded by all that tantalizing blood would be difficult.

It wasn't a pleasant job, even for a demon, but Spike did it anyway. He took off his duster and put it aside before he cut down the bodies and began wrapping them in the sheets, laying them out to be carried to the pyre when it was ready. In another way, it was lucky he was doing this job, as it meant he didn't have to worry about anyone uncovering the fresh puncture wounds in the man who'd survived a skinning. When he had the fairly intact bodies wrapped, he next had the task of taking care of the mass of limbs and other remains on the floor. By the time he was done, Spike's hands and arms were covered with blood.

Finding a spare scrap of cloth, Spike wiped off as much of the sticky blood as he could and then slipped back into his duster. A shadow fell from the open doorway and Spike looked up to see Jayne standing there, looking at the row of bodies. He half turned and gestured behind him with a jerk of his head.

"Time to get 'em set up."

The others appeared and walked past Jayne. Zoe and Simon picked up one body and began carrying it out. Mal picked up another then Jayne took one. Spike sighed and moved into the doorway. A shadow stretched about halfway to where the pyre was. It was too risky to even attempt helping…not that he wanted to. No more than he had done already anyway. The space between the town hall and the ship had no shade for him to seek refuge in, and the distance was too great to make a run for it. God but he wanted a smoke badly.

* * *

><p>"How come he ain't helpin' again?" Jayne asked on their third trip back to pick up bodies.<p>

Spike was pacing within the bounds of the shadow, and threw Jayne a scowl before resuming his pacing. The sun just kept getting higher and higher, and Spike's patches of shadowy safety were shrinking fast. It would take a while before the sun would start to descend and create shade in the opposite direction that would aid his trip to the ship.

"He's got a sun allergy, apparently," Mal said. "Say, Doc, that actually exist? I always thought it was nothin' more than sunburn. Spike there claims all sorts of horrible stuff happens to him if he sets foot in it."

"There are cases of people who have bad reactions to the sun, yes, but it's usually no more than a rash or severe burning. Still, it's better for him to stay out of the sun if he does have an allergy," Simon replied.

"Explains why he's so pale too," Zoe said, cocking an eyebrow at Spike as she and Simon passed by again.

Mal grinned at that and threw Spike an amused glance. Spike ignored them. He was more preoccupied with judging how long he had to wait before he could risk the trip back to the ship.

By the time they were done moving the bodies, Spike had been forced to retreat back to the doorway of the town hall again. He glared at the sun, and watched as the crew stood aside while Mal lit the thing and flames began to lick across the wood and the shrouded bodies. The smell of wood smoke and burning flesh soon reached the vampire's nose, and he leaned against the doorframe, watching the smoke start to rise. The Sheppard had arrived while they were moving bodies and helped. He was saying a prayer now or at least Spike assumed that's what he was doing, while the rest of the crew either bowed their heads or simply watched the fire grow.

Eventually they were forced to back off, the heat becoming too much for them to continue surrounding the pyre. They were making their way back to the ship and Spike started getting edgy.

"You gonna just leave me here?"

Mal paused and smirked at Spike. "You wanna join us feel free. Nothin' stoppin' you 'cept Mr. Sun right? You can keep an eye on the fire." Mal carried on walking. "We'll be back when it's burned out."

"Oh right, because it would be terrible if a bloody ghost town were to burn down!" Spike shouted.

If it wasn't for the smoke that would be sure to start rising from his back giving him away, Spike would have grabbed a blanket and run for it like he had so many times before in Sunnyhell. Jayne appeared next to Spike and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Like he said, ain't nothin' stoppin' you 'cept your allergy. How does that go again?"

Jayne suddenly pushed Spike forward, sending him sprawling into the dirt face first. Spike yelped and spun around onto his back, scrambling backwards and struggling to find his feet and cover his face from the sun at the same time, yelling and cursing at the top of his lungs. The rest of the crew came to a halt when they heard his shouts and had turned back to see Spike on the ground, Jayne looking at him bemused.

"What in the world?" Mal asked, baffled.

Spike managed to struggle to a sitting position when a thought occurred to him. He stopped mid curse and blinked, stared down at himself, squinted up at the sun then back to himself and blinked again. He held a hand up to his face and studied it, and marveled at how no flames were rising from it.

"Bloody hell. I'm not burning. I'm not—I'm not burning? I'm not burning!" He grinned and started to laugh maniacally as he realized that for some reason, the sun wasn't setting him on fire.

"Told you he belongs in the Bughouse," Jayne muttered.

Spike shot to his feet and spun around a few times, checking his body for signs of smoke and laughing harder when he found none.

"I'm not burning!"


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm not burning! Ha! Keep rising you burning ball of gas! No flaming death for Spike! Not today!"

The crew of Serenity continued to watch as Spike pointed up at the sun, jumped, and cheered gleefully. Just when Mal thought Spike couldn't get any stranger, he went and pulled a stunt like this. He'd been ready to berate Jayne for shoving Spike out of his shady spot like that, even though he was curious himself about a skin allergy as bad as Spike claimed to have, but now it seemed like the guy had been lying—or he was just as dumb as he looked.

"Over a century of bloodshed, torture, bar fights, mobs, apocalypses, Slayer bitches—and I was gonna be done in by a no-brained beefcake shoving me out of a doorway? Ha! Spike doesn't go down that easily you poncy PTB!"

"So how come he ain't crispy fried like he said would happen?" Jayne asked, pointing at Spike who continued to whoop and cheer.

"He must be a hypochondriac," Simon said as he observed the Brit. "Believed he had the condition but didn't."

"Or he could just be crazy," Mal pointed out, as Spike started to laugh maniacally again.

"I don't know what it is, different dimension, different sun, but I bloody love it," Spike said suddenly, addressing the crew. "God this is brilliant, better than the Gem of Amarra. Guess I have a second chance to see if I freckle," Spike continued, grinning.

"Yeah, good for you," Mal said, at a loss.

"Finally something in this shitty universe is going my way," Spike said, closing his eyes and raising his face to the sun, basking in it. "Maybe this place won't be so bad after all."

Mal grew tired of the scene and turned to head back to the ship again. "Yeah, well now you can make up for all the work you got out of claiming—"

Suddenly, a Reaver appeared in front of him, screeching, with a large blade in its hand. Mal barely had time to process the mutilated face in front of him before it struck. A shot tore through the air and the Reaver fell backwards, dead, while Mal was still in the process of dodging. Turning around he saw Zoe, gun in hand, staring at the body. Their eyes met and a grim understanding dawned on both of them.

"This place wasn't as deserted as we thought," Zoe said.

"Fire musta drawn 'em outta wherever they were hidin'," Mal agreed, drawing his weapon.

"So that's a Reaver, eh?" Spike asked, approaching the body curiously.

"Stay here and look at it all you want, but we're leavin'. Everyone move, now!" Mal shouted.

They all began running for the ship, even Spike, after throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the body. They trampled up the ramp and Mal rushed to the intercom.

"Wash, get the ship moving, and take us outta here."

"What's going on?" Wash's voice asked, crackling with static.

"Reavers weren't all gone, now get us in the air before they get here!"

Mal was just about to close up the ramp and airlock when he heard a snarl and a shout. Spinning quickly he saw Simon struggling with a Reaver and yelling for help. Mal drew his gun but just like Zoe and Jayne, he couldn't get a clear shot with Simon in the line of fire.

"Help, please!" Simon shouted, doing his best to keep the Reaver's gnashing teeth and sharp blade away from him as they swayed from side to side.

"Get out of the gorram way and I might!" Jayne yelled back, doing his best to take aim at the Reaver. "Oh hell."

"Jayne, don't shoot the doctor! We might need him later," Mal said, and Jayne's shoulders slumped.

"I was just gonna wing him," Jayne whined.

"Don't wing me!" Simon yelled.

"Oh for—" Spike said, rolling his eyes.

Spike darted forward and grabbed the Reaver from behind, throwing him backwards while Simon lost his balance and fell. Mal and the others watched in amazement as the Reaver flew right across the cargo hold and slammed into the wall before falling to the floor. Spike yelled and clutched his head and Mal glanced back at him quickly.

"Son of a—" Spike muttered, pressing a fist against his temple.

"What's wrong with you?" Mal asked, thoroughly confused.

The Reaver roared again and was riddled with bullet holes as Mal, Jayne and Zoe all shot it. Another screech came from behind them and they spun to see another Reaver jump on board, yet more of the savage beasts running towards the ship.

"Qing Wa Cao De Liu Mang!" Mal shouted, rapidly closing the ramp as Serenity's engine jumped to life.

Spike had spun to face the second Reaver, but wasn't fast enough to stop it from stabbing him in the chest with a lethal set of blades that were strapped to its hand like claws. Spike grunted in pain and grabbed a hold of the Reaver's arm, yanking the claws out of his chest and throwing a left hook that knocked the Reaver sideways. Spike clutched his chest and his head and sank to his knees, letting out a vicious sounding roar. If Mal didn't know better, he's think Spike was more beastly than the Reavers when he roared like that. Spike collapsed forward onto the ground and stopped moving. Mal shot the Reaver in the head before it could get up again. Serenity was on the move at last, flying away from Caspia as fast as she could.

"That was too close," Zoe said, exhaling.

Simon was still sitting on the floor, his eyes wide, glancing from the dead Reaver, to Mal, and over at Spike.

"He saved me," Simon said quietly.

Mal turned his attention to the prone blond on the floor. He shared a grim look with Zoe. Simon swallowed and crawled over to Spike, rolling him over. Spike's shirt was shredded and blood was slowly pouring from the large gashes in his chest.

"He's cut deep," Simon said, beginning his assessment.

He reached for Spike's wrist and froze for a second, unprepared for the coldness he felt. Frowning he tried to locate a pulse. Mal and the others looked on. Inara and Kaylee suddenly appeared.

"What happened?" Inara began, coming to a halt when she saw the dead Reavers and Spike.

Kaylee gasped in surprise and Sheppard Book took a few steps closer to Simon. The doctor looked up and met the preacher's eye. Slowly, he shook his head.

"He's gone," Simon said.

Book sighed. Mal put his gun back in its holster and rubbed a hand over his face wearily, folding his arms.

"Damn it," he whispered.

"Maybe he's better off," Jayne said.

Everyone stared at him and Jayne shrugged.

"I said maybe. Guy was all muddled up anyways."

"Take care of those bodies," Mal said, ignoring Jayne and gesturing at the Reavers. "I want 'em off my ship." He turned to go when Simon's voice stopped him.

"And Spike?"

Mal paused, thinking. Tilting his head a little, he turned back to the doctor, still crouching at the Brit's side.

"Take him to the infirmary for now. Clean him up a bit and find a shroud for him. He did it for folks on Caspia, we can do the same for him."

"I would like to do a service for him if that's okay," Book said.

"I don't believe he was much into the good book, Sheppard."

"No, he wasn't. Still, it would make me feel better to say a few words for him. I'd at least like to say something about the good he did in the short time we knew him and hope he finds peace finally."

"Fine. Wrap him, say what you want for him and then we space him. He can wander out in the black just like he wandered into it."

Mal cast a final glance at Spike and headed for the bridge to talk to Wash. He wanted to make sure they were clear of danger this time.

* * *

><p>Spike was laid out in the infirmary. His shirt and coat had been removed so Simon could clean up the wounds. Kaylee was standing in the doorway watching Simon, and Inara, Book, and Jayne were seated in the common area. Simon turned to Spike to start cleaning the Brit's wounds and frowned. He wiped away some more blood and leaned in closer. He prodded at the skin a bit and Kaylee raised herself up on her toes to try and see what he was doing.<p>

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"It's strange," Simon mumbled, "the blood stopped much quicker than it should have. The wounds—"Simon's frown deepened as he peered down at Spike's chest then leaned back, looking at the blond, now thoroughly confused. "That can't be—it makes no sense."

"What?" Kaylee repeated, moving into the room and looking at Spike.

Simon glanced over at her, still frowning in puzzlement.

"His wounds, they—they appear to be—healing. The skin has started closing up."

"What? That can't be. You said he was dead," Kaylee said, hurrying over to stand on Spike's other side, opposite Simon, peering down at the wounds which were indeed closing.

"He _is_ dead," Simon said. "Which is why it makes no sense, and even if he wasn't dead injuries like this shouldn't be healing so rapidly."

"Maybe you made a mistake," Kaylee said, meeting Simon's eyes. "Maybe the cuts weren't as deep as you thought they were."

"Kaylee, I know what I saw, it's my job. That Reaver sliced him open with those blades."

"Well then how can a dead man possibly be healing like this?" Kaylee argued, gesturing at Spike.

"I honestly have no idea," Simon replied.

Leaning down again, Simon stretched one of the wounds to get a better look at where it was closing up. Spike's hand shot up and grabbed Simon's wrist like a vice, and the blond groaned loudly. Kaylee shrieked and jumped backwards, and even Simon jumped and let out a shout of surprise. The others ran in from the common room, pausing just inside the doorway when they laid eyes on Spike, rising into a sitting position. Simon gaped at the Brit who clutched the back of his head, still groaning.

"Sodding chip. Feel like I just lost a fight with a troll."

Spike looked down at Simon's hand in his grip then up at the doc. With a growl he released him. Simon stumbled backwards until he was pressed up against the wall, staring wide eyed at the disgruntled blond.

"Some bloody healer you are pullin' and proddin' at a bloke that just had his chest sliced open. Especially one that was savin' your miserable little life in the process."

Spike pressed a hand against his wounded chest and grimaced as he swung his legs out over the operating table and stood up, wobbling slightly.

"I might have known my spot of good luck would run out before I had a chance to enjoy it. Must have lost half what I managed to eat. Not like another opportunity like that is just gonna conveniently present itself," Spike grumbled.

"You said he was dead!" Kaylee exclaimed.

"Yeah, Doc, I thought he'd bitten the big one?" Jayne added amazed.

"He was! H-he did!" Simon argued, running a shaky hand through his hair. "You—y-you were d-dead. I know you were! You didn't have a pulse!"

Simon pointed an accusatory finger at Spike while sliding sideways along the wall and back to the others. Spike rolled his eyes and sucked in his cheeks.

"Right. I don't suppose you'll believe me if I say you just imagined it will you?"

Simon shook his head and Spike sighed. Kaylee moved over to the group gathered inside the door as well, obviously feeling that there was safety in numbers.

"Well I guess the cat's out of the bag then. Yeah, I'm dead. Have been for quite some time actually. Well over a century in fact—though I'd be older than that by your standards—of course, this is an alternate dimension so…Oh, sod it. Who knows how this space-time travel thing really works—point is I'm not human. Those Reaver bastards are though, so I can confirm that little myth for you. Definitely not demons or monsters."

Spike rubbed the back of his head again and waited for them to react. They'd have to blink eventually before their eyes dried out.

"What do you mean you're not human?" Book asked at last.

"I mean, I'm not human," Spike said irritably. "It's really not that hard. How many dead guys do you know who get up and walk around? How many living blokes do you know that could toss those pillocks across the cargo hold like I did for that matter?"

"What is goin' on here?" Mal's voice sounded from behind his crew.

The group filed out of the infirmary to see him enter the common area, closely followed by Zoe and Wash. Spike halted in the doorway, eyeing the Captain as he glanced from crew member to crew member. Spike smirked when Mal's gaze landed on him, and the cowboy did a double-take.

"I thought you were dead!" Mal exclaimed, pointing a finger at Spike. "Wasn't he dead?" he asked, turning back to his crew.

"He says he ain't human," Jayne answered, fingering his gun and watching Spike warily.

"Well then what the heck are you?" Mal asked, pointing at Spike.

Spike sighed. "I'm a vampire. You ever hear of one of those? Walking dead guys that drink your blood?"

"Heh, what?" Mal asked, grinning a little. "I think maybe that Reaver tore up what little sanity you had left."

"Oh, really?" Spike asked, as though pondering the idea. "Well then I suppose this means absolutely nothing then?"

Spike vamped out with a snarl, flashing his fangs and enjoying the way they all jumped backwards at the sight. Wash even stumbled over a chair and fell on the floor. They were all shrinking away as Spike took one slow step forward, then another into the common room. Mal and Zoe reached for their weapons hurriedly when a shot rang out and Spike stumbled back against the wall of the infirmary. He glanced down at the new hole in his chest right where his heart rested and the blood that was trickling out of it. He held a hand up to cover the hole and turned a golden eyed glare at Jayne, revolver in hand, staring at the vampire.

"Ow," Spike said annoyed. "That hurt, you big ape!"

Two more shots rang out, both hitting their target; Spike's chest, and making two more holes in him. Spike roared and they all jumped again. Mal and Zoe both had their weapons drawn and pointed at Spike too, but were mesmerized as they watched the vampire brace himself and stand up straight again, rubbing at the bullet wounds.

"Will you stop that!" Spike shouted at Jayne. "I'm not known for my patience and you are really pushing me!" He added another ear splitting roar for good measure.

"Jayne, drop it," Mal ordered, firmly.

Jayne gave Mal a sideways look and jerked his head in Spike's direction. "Fa Kuang! Nee Tzao Se Mah?"

"Well shootin' him clearly ain't workin'," Mal said through gritted teeth. "Put the damn gun down."

"Wuh De Ma," the Preacher whispered. "I don't believe what I'm seeing."

"Neither can I," Simon added, staring wide eyed at Spike.

"Everyone just calm down, all right," Spike said, shaking off his vamp face and keeping a wary eye on them all. "If I was gonna hurt you I'd have done it already, don't you think? So relax. Shooting me isn't going to work," Spike winced as he pressed his hand to the hole through his heart again, "as we've clearly established."

"I ain't tried shootin' you in the head yet," Jayne said, aiming his weapon again.

"Hey now," Spike said, raising his hands defensively, "I said I wasn't going to hurt you. Put that away, Rambo."

"Jayne," Zoe snapped.

"If it won't work, why don't he want me to try it?" Jayne asked her.

"How about because having bullets rip through your body hurts like hell, you thick-headed jackass," Spike answered. "It wouldn't kill me, but it would make me lose my temper and I'm already toeing the line as is."

"Jayne, no more shootin'" Mal said again, then moved a few steps closer to Spike, his own gun at the ready. "A vampire?"

Spike eyed the gun, met Mal's gaze again, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, a vampire."

"I see." Mal nodded. "Get the hell off my ship. I don't know exactly what you are or how you came to be, but I won't have you on board any longer. Now, maybe we can't kill you with bullets, but there are other ways. I could send you off into space for one, I'm sure we'd have a heap of fun figurin' out the other possibilities."

"And I'd have a fine time tearing into your throats and drinking my fill if you tried," Spike said with a snarl, doing his best to intimidate the captain. He was lying through his teeth, but he didn't have any other option right now. "I'm not saying I want to stay with you. Just stick to the original plan. We land, I leave, and you never hear from me again."

"We're supposed to trust you?" Inara asked. "You're a monster, a-a-an—I don't even know what!"

"And you threatened to kill us!" Kaylee added.

"Who threatened who first, Sunshine?"Spike asked, facing Kaylee with a stony glare that made her shrink back a bit. "I never once attacked any of you. He," Spike pointed at Jayne, "is the one who got trigger happy first and hurt me. Besides which, you all owe me."

"What?" Mal asked.

"Oh don't play that game," Spike said, turning back to Mal. "I saved your soddin' doctor back there and got my guts torn up doin' it. Not to mention giving you lot a clear shot at the bastards. The least you can do is keep your word. Land the ship, and we go our separate ways."

Mal considered that. Everyone in the room was glancing back and forth from Mal to Spike. Eventually Mal put his gun back in its holster, and Zoe followed suit.

"Fine, Mal said shortly. "We stick to the original plan. But you stay in your quarters and don't come near anyone on my ship. No more wanderin' around as you please, understood?"

Spike gave him a menacing glare, tempted to push the man with another threat while in game face.

"Makin' me a prisoner now, are you?"

"It's your bunk or the brig," Mal challenged, without hesitation. "Then you really can be a prisoner."

After a tense moment, Spike backed off.

"Fine."

"Good. Wash, "Mal called over his shoulder.

Wash rose from the floor, brushing himself off, still staring warily at Spike. "Yeah?"

"Get us on course for the nearest piece of rock and set us down. Spike's little vacation on Serenity is over."

"Right away, cap'n," Wash agreed, backing away and heading for the control room. He gave Zoe's hand a quick squeeze as he passed her and with a silent exchange with Mal, during which he offered her a small nod, she followed her husband.

"I said get to your quarters," Mal said, watching Spike.

"Simon!" River's voice broke the tension in the common room as she appeared in the doorway, fear written all over her face. "Simon, they're coming!"

"What?" Simon rushed to his sister, forgetting about Spike, coming within two feet of the vampire as he rushed to River's side. "Who, River, who's coming?"

River whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. Simon brushed her hair back and turned her face to look at him.

"Two by two, hands of blue," she whispered. "They're coming to take us away."

"What is she jabberin' on about now?" Mal asked, getting fed up with all the problems rushing his way.

"River? Hands of blue? Who are they?" Simon urged.

"They're coming for us. Bad, bad, bad things." River whimpered again, clutching Simon's shirt in her hands.

"Coming for us—the Alliance?" Simon asked, eyes widening.

"Oh, that's all we need," Mal grumbled. "Kaylee, we might need you in the engine room in case we get company. Spike, I said your quarters! Don't make me repeat myself again or I _will_ let Jayne shoot you in the head."

"All right," Spike snapped. "You think the doc could take these bullets out first though? Last thing I need is for the wounds to close up around them, and as you may have noticed I heal fast."

"You expect us to give you medical attention?" Mal asked in disbelief.

"Why the bloody hell not? You were willing to give it to a corpse," Spike pointed out.

"As you lead us to believe, you're still a corpse," Book said, still looking somewhat amazed by the revelation that Spike wasn't human.

"Well if you want to get technical about it," Spike muttered.

"You know what? I'm too pissed off right now to have another argument with you. From some stranger blowin' in on my deal and bein' forced aboard my ship as a passenger, to Reavers, to corpses comin' back to life, and now the threat of Alliance cruisers, I think I've had my fill of excitement for now. Simon, take out those bullets."

"You want me to operate on that thing?" Simon yelped. "What if he tries to—drink my blood like he said."

"Oi!" Spike objected.

"Spike, don't eat Simon, and once the bullets are out—"

"I know, I know, my bunk." Spike rolled his eyes, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

"Jayne, stay with them and make sure Spike doesn't try to eat Simon. If he does—"

Jayne grinned at Spike. "I shoot him in the head."

Spike lowered his eyes at Jayne then scoffed and walked back into the infirmary, hopping up on the table and wincing as the action caused him pain. Mal left with Inara following. Book stayed behind, studying Spike while Jayne waited for Simon to calm River down and head back to the infirmary.

"Oi, Doc, would appreciate it if you'd hurry it up. I heal fast, remember? Don't fancy you havin' to cut me open again because you let the wounds close over before these bullets are taken out," Spike called, drumming his fingers on the operating table.

He heard Simon comforting River, whispering to her that everything would be okay and he wouldn't let _them_ take her back. The Alliance was clearly another threat to the crew out here, but since they weren't quaking in their boots, Spike figured they couldn't be as bad as Reavers. He was still puzzled as to what exactly drove a bunch of humans so far over the edge they'd mutilate their own bodies like that.

The violence, murder, and utter viciousness of the attack back on Caspia made it obvious that Reavers were built to kill and maim with little thought for anything else. Back home, the Slayer and her Scoobies would explain that kind of stuff as demon worship or magic gone wrong or whatnot, but here…as far as Spike could see he was the strangest thing out here. To this lot, magic and demons didn't exist. Or maybe it did, only here they still accepted madness as a plausible explanation. That River girl…something was off there.

"Lie down, and stay still," Simon said, striding into the infirmary and avoiding all eye contact with Spike, looking for the equipment he'd need.

Jayne followed him in and leaned against the wall by the door, his gun held casually in his hand.

"What, no flowers, chocolates, mood lighting? Just lie down and let you work, eh? The ladies must love you," Spike said, swinging his legs up and reclining on the table, putting his arms behind his head as he watched Simon move about the room.

"You—I—what?" Simon asked, turning, clearly baffled.

"Just saying, Doc, you could use some lessons in romance."

"Very—amusing" Simon said, shaking his head, obviously deciding to ignore Spike as he pulled a stool over and settled down to begin working.

Spike frowned as Simon drew closer with a pair of forceps, aiming for one of the bullet holes.

"Uh Doc, I think you're forgetting somethi—OW! BLODDY HELL!"

Simon jumped and leaned backwards as Spike yelled, sitting up glaring at the doctor while holding a hand over his heart again.

"What? What'd he do?" Jayne asked, curiously.

"What did he do?" Spike asked, throwing his glare in Jayne's direction. "He started diggin' around in my chest without any anesthetic that's what."

Spike snarled at Simon who flinched.

"I—I didn't think—" he stuttered.

"Clearly not. You're an idiot," Spike said.

"I didn't think you needed it," Simon finished at last, raising his eyes to Spike warily. "Since you're not technically alive—"

"Well I'm not technically dead either—least in the traditional sense. I can still feel pain you moron, as I thought we proved earlier when G.I. Jane shot me," Spike said, gesturing at Jayne. "Pillock," he added for good measure.

"You seemed perfectly tolerant of coping with the pain, more than a human would. I assumed—"

"Well what do you expect when you go poking a glorified pair of tweezers through the hole in my, er, bleedin' heart. Pain of diggin' about lasts longer than the bullet quickly shredding through my internal organs and what-have-you. Could at least have given us some alcohol to dull the feeling."

"Fine, I'll give you something to dull the pain, just hold on," Simon said, rising and locating a syringe to prepare a shot for the irate vampire.

"And you lot consider him a genius," Spike said with a sneer at Jayne before reconsidering. "You know what? Nevermind, forgot who I was talking to."

"Hey," Jayne said, offended, shifting and raising his weapon a fraction.

"I really hope this little trip doesn't take too long," Spike said, lying back down and trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable, "because if I have to spend any more time with the—and I didn't think this was possible—more incompetent Scoobie club, I may just dust myself and be done with it. It would be far less torture."


End file.
